


Burning

by HPswl_cumbercookie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves his Houseplants (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Gen, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Protective Houseplants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 08:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPswl_cumbercookie/pseuds/HPswl_cumbercookie
Summary: Crowley's return to the hellfire as Aziraphale leads to an unexpected reaction, but Aziraphale is there to offer some much needed comfort.





	Burning

**Author's Note:**

> I am so so sorry. I've been wanting to write this for a while now, the idea of Crowley's fall from heaven is one that I'm really in love with. I apologize in advance for bringing my angst fest into this fandom.

Crowley smirked out at Gabriel through the flames of the hellfire, basking in the glory of his discomfort as he watched "Aziraphale" stand peacefully amidst the flames that should have killed him. The fire stung at his exposed hands and neck and face like hot oil, yet left no trace, and he managed to maintain his resilient smile throughout. As the flames began to bite through the suit and into his core, he felt his heart begin to stutter, his breaths coming faster as he breathed in the evil inferno. Finally he saw as Gabriel gave way, begging that he leave with shock written across plainly across his features. As quickly as he could, he snapped himself into his flat. 

As soon as his feet hit the solid stone of the floor of his greenery, his knees buckled and he collapsed, his breaths coming too rapidly to count, a quick susurrus of small, insufficient breaths, his lungs constricting in his chest. He knelt on the ground with hands over his head as moments of an entirely different inferno flashed behind his shut tight eyes. He felt his wings burning, agony shot down his spine in bursts of fire as the feathers burned away. The ground hurtled closer and closer, a hurricane of wind surrounded him as he plummeted. His heart turned cold as ice in his chest and darkness overcame his vision as he finally slammed into the humid depths of hell. 

His entire body ached as he lay on the slimy, tepid ground. The air burned. His skin hissed, his lungs stung, his eyes watered as the atmosphere ate away at his being. He refused to open his eyes, even as he heard the rustling and murmur of demons surrounding him. He felt them come closer and closer, sensed as they reached out to touch him, only to be burnt by his still just barely blessed skin. A hand grabbed at his forearm, followed by sizzling groans of agony. They pressed closer, closer, closer until “BACK AWAY!” A voice pierced through the air above him. Immediately the air cleared as the demons scurried off, and he felt a single presence come nearer, standing over his body where it coiled on the filthy ground. His body trembled, for the first time feeling true fear as norepinephrine rushed through his veins. He was paralyzed by fear, but he managed to force his eyes open to see . . .

Plants. 

His ferns and bushes and succulents all leaned toward him, all of them radiating concern. As he looked at them each in turn they stood up straight and tall, their leaves fluffing out and turning greener. The picture of perfection. He didn’t move as the plants stiffened in an attempt to please him. His eyes called out a plea as they filled with tears. He closed them tightly in a vain attempt to stop the tears but they only fell mightier. He lay his head back on the ground and let the echo of his sobs reverberate through the empty flat. 

Hours later he awoke to hear the steady click of vaguely heeled boots rushing nearer to him. He opened his eyes as he watched himself come nearer, worry plastered across his own snake-like features. He gathered himself up into his arms, holding him tightly against his warm chest. He didn’t fight the embrace, but neither did he return it completely, confusion over-taking his hormone addled brain. It wasn’t until he heard Aziraphale’s voice speaking gentle platitudes into his ear that he remembered and allowed himself to relax into the comfort. 

He closed his eyes and allowed his entire body to relax as he felt himself being hefted into surprisingly strong arms and carried through the flat before being laid down on the comfort of his own duvet. The arms disappeared for a moment and his eyes opened, searching frantically for his angel before he felt the bed dip behind him and he was once again pulled close to a warm chest. He sighed contentedly as he was hugged tight, accepting the comfort offered. For now, they would be happy, together.


End file.
